Infused magic into artifact
Words spoken out loud and inscribed on artifact
Words of acceptance for activation
Blood
TODO: Not sure what words of acceptance mean… further research required.
TODO: Look into reported instances in news articles next.
Gentry felt a mix of elation and hatred as she studied the witch she’d captured. She’d pictured this moment thousands of times over the last few weeks, had manifested the pet witch she’d force to get her out of her incredibly shitty situation. And this guy who’d been mere seconds away from ending her life looked nothing like the middle-aged, shifty asshole she’d pictured.
He looked to be in his twenties like her, with broad shoulders and features not unlike the stupid boy band posters Mykel never shut up about. Angular cheekbones and grey eyes that looked like a cloudy sky on snowy winter day. Only the witch’s features were marred by more than a few scars — a few littered his left cheek and a large line marred his perfect lips and tugged theright side up a bit. Freckles dusted across his cheekbones tried to make him less beautiful and failed.
Him being attractive made her even angrier. She showed her teeth to the asshole. “Oh. You’re pretty for a witch. What a shame.” She shifted her weight on the dresser.
It must’ve hurt because he looked away from her, his jaw tight.
Gentry relished in the fact that finally, for the first time since her father had sold her out, she was in control. She took stock of where the chainmail covered the witch. It’d landed perfectly, pinned between the witch’s broad chest and the dresser. His left side was pinned and the right was twisted in such a way where his hand lay by his head.
She had to watch the hands. A witch’s hands were focal in manipulating magic. If his hands got loose from the iron trapping his magic inside his skin, it’d be game over.
But first she had to see if her gamble had paid off. From her position on the dresser, she looked at the door, which had swung shut in the commotion. Taped to the backside, close to the handle, was a stack of papers. Papers which were a disappointing white.
Gentry’s heart sunk in her chest, and she scrambled to unstick the papers. Magical litmus paper. If they were all white… then this escape was dead in the water and she’d doomed herself.
Hands shaking, she spread the papers out on the dresser, ignoring her captured witch’s groans of pain as she shifted. There. Three of the papers were pink at the front of the stack.Thank God.She clutched the magic-infused papers to her chest.
It’d taken a lot of research on how she’d get an assassin witch to do her bidding, but a Favor would do the trick. The first step was the paper had to be infused with a witch’s magic. The next…
Gentry shoved the first pink paper into the witch’s face. “Read this. Out loud.”
“Why should I?” the witch asked with a country drawl which surprised her. His husky voice didn’t sound angry. Just breathless and in pain.
If only she cared. The stupid bastard had been about to kill her, after all. She’d seen his too-tall shadow lurking in the doorway, had nearly not sprang the booby trap in time. She’d felt the pressure of magic around her neck. Like a vice.
“Because you’ll get arrested if I scream. And my roommate will be back from boning the guard soon. Plenty of reasons for you and I to get along. So”—she shoved the note back closer to his face—“read. Out loud.”
A few seconds of quiet, focused silence before the witch said, “You have to be kidding.”
“I don’t joke with witches. I can’t imagine the Nethertons will be too nice to you for trying to kill me.” Gentry felt more than a little glee when the witch’s eyes widened.
